When Did We Change
by SisiDraig
Summary: Bit of Dan/Jones angst and eventual fluff!
1. Chapter 1

The music was so loud the house was shaking. It could be heard for miles around and suddenly, it stuttered and died. Dan looked up from his article and stared at Jones in disbelief, Jones _never _stopped in the middle of mixing, not for anyone. Jones just looked back, eyes burning into Dan's.

"I miss us Dan." he mumbled.

Dan nodded softly, closed his laptop and patted the sofa next to him, indicating Jones should join him. He did and Dan put his arm around the skinny shoulders, pulling him close. Jones closed his eyes and rested his head against the other man's shoulder. He knew this was as close to saying 'me too' as Dan would ever get. For a moment, a blissful, fantastical moment, it had been like it used to. Then the creaking of the front door signalled Claire's return and Dan leapt up like a scolded cat, shuffling quickly into the kitchen to make them both a coffee.

Jones sighed heavily and lifted himself laboriously from the tattered sofa. By the time Claire had walked into the living room, Jones was behind the decks punching the air. He forced a grin at Claire and yelled; "Alright."

She raised a hand and carried on into the kitchen.

"How do you put up with this noise?" she asked, slumping down into a chair and taking the coffee that was meant for Jones. Dan just grunted and sat down opposite her. He was a coward. Why couldn't he just admit to Claire his feelings for Jones? Why didn't he just explain the situation? But Dan never really did anything without prompting and Claire had never asked about Jones before. Not _really_ asked anyway but she did now. She just looked him right in the eye and asked the utterly unanswerable question;

"Why?"

"Why, what?" Dan tired to sound bored and distracted but he was nervous, nervous she was going to ask him the questions he didn't want to answer and he couldn't lie. She knew when he lied.

"Why is he here?"

"I needed someone to share the rent with."

"I'm here now."

"I can't just kick him out."

"How did you even meet him?"

"Interview."

--

It felt like Dan had interviewed everyone in the world before he found Jones. There'd been the woman who thought she was some kind of witch. There was the man who'd been looking for a place to lie low. The one who'd reminded him far too much of Jonatton Yeah? And then, in had walked a quiet, pretty boy with long hair and bright clothes, who'd grinned and said; "Alright?"

"Yeah. Sit down." Dan had replied.

If the fact Jones didn't seem to belong to any sort of weird cult had been enough to persuade Dan that this was the person he wanted to share his flat with. Jones had pretty much sealed it when he'd said;

"I'm a DJ so, I work all night and sleep in the day. We'll probably never see each other. You'll hardly notice I'm there."

--

"What and even though he's a nightmare you let him stay?"

"Yeah."

"I'm a what?" Jones asked, blinking in the doorway. Dan looked up, his face expressionless, Claire at least had the decency to look sorry, which is why it surprised both Ashcroft's that when Jones stormed off, Dan was the one to follow him.

Jones had slammed the door of the only bedroom and threw himself facedown onto the bed. Dan followed quietly and sat tentatively on the end of the bed.

"Are you crying?" he said. He didn't sound concerned or angry, he just wanted to know.

Jones' head shook furiously but the pillow-softened sob gave his lie away.

"Why are you crying?" Dan asked. He really didn't understand anything. Jones turned to face him, his blue eyes were bright and fantastic, the tears had smudged the black eyeliner down his face. Dan was annoyed at how Jones managed to look excellent even when in complete disarray.

Jones stared at Dan and said; "Why can't you just tell her the truth?"

"I…"

"She wont care Dan."

"But…"

"No one will care."

"I… they… I'm protecting you." Dan blurted out.

"Protecting me? From what?"

"The idiots."

"Dan, I don't care about the damn idiots! I just care about you."

"And I care about you."

"So tell Claire… tell someone." Jones was almost begging now.

"Why do they have to know?" Dan cringed as he spoke, he wasn't sure why he was so desperate to keep him and Jones a secret but he was so desperate he all but ignored him when anyone else was around.

"Dan." Jones sighed suddenly.

"What?" Dan managed to snap, as though he has any right to be angry. The younger man jumped a little but he just took a deep breath and spoke slowly.

"I'm not supposed to be locked up in a tower like a princess in fairy tale. I'm supposed to be displayed proudly on someone's arm."

"Someone's?"

Jones just nodded, "It doesn't have to be you." he whispered. "I'm not going to wait until you're big enough to tell your family, your sister or even yourself that you're gay."

"But…"

"D'you know what happens to those princess' when they lock 'em in towers?"

"Do they die of starvation?"

"No. A prince comes and rescues them."

"What are you trying to say?"

"I'm a DJ Dan, every time I do a gig, I get offers."

Dan could feel the anger rising up to his chest and tightening around his heart.

"What kind of offers?"

"You know what kind." Jones sighed, going to check his face in the mirror. "And I always say 'no' but…" he trailed off.

"But, what?" Dan was stood now, he didn't know what to say or what to do. He wanted to tell Jones that he couldn't stand the thought of him with anybody else, he wanted to tell Jones that he loved him. He wanted to tell everyone but he was a coward, so he played dumb and allowed his cowardice to push away the only thing he had going for him.

"But," Jones answered, more quietly still, "I guess, if we're pretending we don't like each other then, they're free game, right?"

_NO! You're mine. Don't you dare. _Dan thought.

"Yeah, I guess that's exactly what it means." Dan said.

He saw something in Jones' eyes flicker and die but then he just smiled and said; "Okay. I've got a gig now, might not be back tonight." He gave a suggestive wink and swanned off into the darkness on the evening outside.

"Is he okay?" Claire asked as Dan reappeared.

"He's… erm, yeah. He's fine." Dan said and slumped down onto the sofa, running his hands down his face exasperatedly.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"I'm fine."

"Liar." she scowled, but she left it there and went to Barley's to do some editing.

Suddenly, in the quiet of the empty house Dan felt incredibly melancholy. He looked at the massive photo of Jones' face on the wall and a small smile crept sneakily onto his face as he remembered the day Jones had first moved in.

It had been raining, pouring even. It had been icy cold and sleet and hail coming down, integrating itself within the torrents of rain. Dan had been reading a book, he couldn't remember what but it wasn't particularly good that didn't stop him, however, on hearing the endless ringing of his doorbell, forcing his way through another three pages before dragging him self to his feet an opening the front door.

"HEY!" beamed a soaking wet Jones, handing him a massive picture of his own head. "I was beginning to think you weren't in."

"What the hell is this?" Dan asked, staring at the multi-coloured portrait.

"My mate drew it for me. Good in it?" he laughed pulling the same pose. Dan thought the effect was somewhat dampened by the fact Jones' hair was plastered to his face and he had a raindrop hanging off the end of his nose.

"Mmm."

"Can you take that in for me? I'll get the rest of my stuff."

Dan took the picture in and dumped it by the wall before settling down to read more of the terrible book. He was vaguely aware of Jones popping into the room every few minutes with another soaking wet box, or some animal print bag or something in a silver suitcase, which made it look expensive. By Jones' fourth or even fifth appearance Dan knew he should really offer to help but he was cosy in here and it was cold and wet out there and anyway, how much more stuff could a twenty-something DJ from London possibly have. A lot, it turned out. On his tenth trip Jones finally spoke.

"Could you give me some help?" he panted, as he carefully placed a large, bubble wrapped speaker onto the floor.

"You seem to be managing."

"Yeah, but I gotta get the rest of my equipment and I can't carry 'em by myself."

Dan groaned loudly and made a big show of shutting his crap book as he rose slowly to his feet.

"Oooor." Jones started, "if you're busy I could get some mates to help me with it tomorrow but I don't really wanna leave it in the van." Jones jigged nervously from one foot to the other.

"I'm up now." Dan had concluded and followed the smaller man outside into the rain. Jones' decks were huge, an unbelievably heavy and it didn't help that there was stuff stuck on all over the place. As they edged carefully towards the front door Dan found himself being constantly smacked in the eye with the leg of a Barbie doll.

They'd taken four trips to get it all in to the house and by the time they'd finished Dan was soaking wet, his hands were stinging from the friction of the decks, his arms felt like they'd left his sockets and his back ached. But, just when he was about to start moaning Jones had thrown his skinny arms around Dan's body and said; "Thank you." before skipping off to get a knife to remove the bubble wrap from the speakers.

Dan almost laughed as the memory of sitting up all night, talking and popping bubble wrap (as a necessity of course, it simply wouldn't have fitted in the bin otherwise) with Jones. He remembered the stories Jones had told about his old flat mates and about gigs he'd done, his fashion disasters and relationship mishaps. He'd spoken about how many times he'd fallen to get to where he was now and laughed when Dan had asked where that was exactly. And then, he turned to Dan and said;

"So what about you? How did you get to this point?"

Dan hadn't answered. He couldn't answer because the answer to 'how did you get this point?' isn't supposed to be 'I don't know'.

Suddenly, Dan grabbed his mobile and rang Jones. Answer phone, of course it was, he'd be working. He hung up, he didn't like leaving voice mail, he never knew how to end them properly or what to say. He always ended up sounding like he wasn't sure how to speak. Instead he sent a text.

**Sent: 8:26pm  
****Date: 15/ 4/2005  
****Sender: Dan**

Come home. We need to

talk.

His thumb wavered over the send button and then, on a bit of a whim, he added: "I have bubble wrap." Then, he waited. He rung his hands nervously, staring at the phone, willing it to ring. Every few seconds he'd pick it up, just in case he'd missed the buzzing, the flashing of lights and the retched ring tone when he'd blinked. No reply came and eventually Dan drifted off to sleep.

When Claire had returned from Barley's, she'd found Dan sleeping awkwardly on the sofa, his phone flashing melodically in his grip. She prised it from his fingers and read the screen.

**1 missed call Jones  
****1 new message Jones  
****View new message**

Claire looked at the screen and then at her brother. 'View new message'; it wasn't even a question. It was telling her to look, ordering her… so she looked.

**Sent: 1.02pm  
****Date 16/4/2005  
****Sender: x~Jones~x**

How much bubble wrap?

She frowned, that didn't make any sense whatsoever. She was about to explore her way through the rest of his messages, all of which were from Jones, when a bark-like cough came from the sofa. She looked down. Dan was digging his knuckles into his eyes to force away the sleep and when he opened his eyes again he blinked and asked;

"What are you doing with my phone?"

"Jones text you."

Dan's heart froze and jumped and probably stopped. Dan was furious with it, he was far too old for his heart to be leaping around like a teenager with a crush.

"Oh."

"Here." she passed him the phone. "It doesn't make any sense. I think he got the wrong number."

"You read it!?" Dan asked, snatching it from her hand and reading it quickly. Phew, he thought, it wouldn't make any sense to Claire.

"Yeah, is that a problem?""Don't touch my stuff." Dan growled, lying back in the sofa and composing a reply.

He was supposed to be a writer but he could for the life of him write the reply. He felt like this was the most important thing he'd ever written, a couple of lines on a virtual medium. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Then he decided he needed a drink. After almost half a bottle of whiskey the words flowed easily but the letters jumped all over the screen and he couldn't manage to put them back in the right places.

What he'd tried to write was;

I'm sorry. I love you. I need you Jones, you're the only thing in my life that makes sense and if you want me to tell Claire, I will.

What he actually wrote was;

H'm sorpy. I lote yo. H medd you Jones, meu're tge molz think in my kiee thct makd cents bne ge you wbnt me twoo uelk Claire, I will.

* * *

**I wanted to write more Dan and Jones =]**

**Umm, it jumps back and fore a little bit and I'm not sure how clear it is to follow so reviews would be lovely!**

**Thanks for reading!  
Sisi...xx**


	2. Chapter 2

**Dedicated to MiwaKuroda! - Thanks for reviewing! And then hurrying me up with another review! lol.**

* * *

Jones was looked down at the message, blinked and looked again. Then he smiled, he couldn't help it. It seemed that Dan had had the whiskey out. Jones looked over at the other man in the room. He'd come over to him at the gig, he'd looked a bit like Dan, if less miserable and defeatist, and he'd asked if he could by the young DJ a drink. Jones had nodded and the other man had smiled. He had blue eyes, not brown and he was capable of cracking a smile and Jones felt slightly repulsed by him but he downed the drink anyway.

They'd talked for a while. Well, this man had talked, told Jones how amazing he looked when he was working the decks and Jones had wriggled uncomfortably. It had all felt wrong. They'd kissed for a bit in the back of the taxi on the way to this man's flat but it was stilted and weird because Jones didn't really want to be there. Once they'd got back to the flat, Jones had checked his phone (for about the millionth time). He still wasn't sure why he kept checking. He was ignoring Dan tonight but that was difficult when there was a message from him asking him to go home. Suddenly, the situation made no sense and Jones was furious and upset and happy all at once. His response was a lot colder than it perhaps should have been but he was still angry with Dan for being such a coward.

When the man returned from the kitchen with two glasses of wine, he saw Jones teary eyes and sighed heavily.

"This isn't happening, is it?"

Jones shook his head slowly, "Sorry." he whispered.

The man just shrugged but Jones knew he was angry. However, when the man sat down, he just said; "So… who is he?"

Jones looked shocked and the man just nodded at the phone in his hands.

"You've been checking it all night."

Then, it was Jones' turn to talk. He told the whole strange tale of how he'd met Dan, how they'd sat up all night on his first day at the flat popping bubble wrap.

They'd been on the sofa for hours, popping and laughing and getting generally more drunk and giggly. They'd been flirting. Jones had known it but Dan seemed to be denying the fact by pushing himself further and further away from Jones.

The younger man had stood up so that he could get some more of that disgusting blue, chavy alcoho-pop he insisted on drinking because it turned out more than one of the rain drenched boxes had been filled with various bottles of alcohol and smokes. As Jones bent over the box searching for his desired drink, Dan's eyes couldn't help but be drawn to his perfect, round arse, wiggling about as he searched the box feverishly. Suddenly, Jones plucked a bottle from the box and looked up to see Dan still gazing.

"You looking at my arse?" Jones grinned, wiggling it to emphasise his point.

"No." Dan blushed.

"Why not? What's wrong with it?" he grinned, flopping onto the sofa, much too close to Dan.

"Erm, nothing." Dan was incredibly uncomfortable by now, he knew he was bright red and it didn't help that Jones was giggling so much he'd manage to dribble blue liquid down his chin. Dan raised a hand automatically to wipe it off but as he was reaching out his brain caught up with his actions and reminded him what an idiot he was being. He allowed the hand to hang in the air limply. Jones eyed it, trying to supress another giggle but it showed in his eyes as he leant forward and nuzzled against the hand. Dan snatched it away as thought the younger man were on fire but Jones had just grinned again as Dan gabbled quickly;

"I'm not gay."

"Lucky, me neither." Jones had smiled back. Then he'd cuddled up against Dan. "You're comfy."

"Erm, thanks?"

"You're welcome." moments later Jones had fallen asleep and Dan hadn't known what to do with himself, so he just stayed put and slept awkwardly propped up against the sofa.

Jones told this man that he'd known from that moment that he loved Dan. The man smiled back kindly and offered him a mug of tea. Jones accepted and sighed heavily and the man asked;

"So what went wrong?"

"He doesn't want to 'come out' to his sister."

"He younger than you then?"

"Older."

"But you're what… 23, 24."

"try 27."

"Really?" The man looked more than a bit shocked and that cheered Jones up nodded, "and he's 32, before you ask. Yes, he should have already come out or at least be comfortable with himself and… I'm sick of hiding."

"But you love him."

Jones nodded again and then he looked at the other man; "Why are you being so nice to me? I ruined your evening."

"Not really. I've got a broken heart too. I was going out tonight to get wasted and forget it but maybe just listening to you has helped more than anything else could."

"So what happened with yours then?" Jones asked.

The man smiled and Jones listened patiently as the man spoke. Just as he reached the end of his story Jones' phone buzzed again. Jones snatched it up and read it.

"That him?"

Jones nodded. "I think he's a bit drunk." he smiled, showing the other man the phone.

"Oh my god, is that the time? I really should be sleeping I gotta be up in the morning."

"Oh. Look, I don't really want to go home tonight… can I have your sofa? I'll be gone by the morning. I swear."

"Sure, I guess." smiled the man.

"What's your name, by the way?"

"Rob, you?"

"Jones."

"Night Jones." he smiled, disappearing into his room.

True to his word, by the time Rob woke up, Jones was gone and in his place a note which read; "Thank you."

--

Jones hadn't wanted to go home. He hadn't wanted to see Dan, hung over and irritable. He hadn't wanted to see Claire because, as irrational as it was, he kind of blamed Claire for ruining things between him and Dan. He decided instead to go and see if he could get another gig in Stanley knives today. As he walked through the door, a large man, with long hair and tattoos grabbed him and stuck him behind the decks.

"Work." he said simply and Jones nodded. He'd always been lucky like that, what was less lucky was that Barley chose this particular day to get his hair cut.

"Jonesy!" he cried as he walked through the door. "Oh no. Look at that." he pointed at a purple my little pony that Dan had nicked for Jones from an art museum's lost property box years ago. Jones had whinged and whined when he'd seen it.

"How could a child be so careless with something so pretty?" he'd moaned. "It deserves a home."

"It's just a plastic toy." sighed Dan, trying to encourage Jones to leave it alone and experience some of the art.

"But look at it. It's tales all tangled too. You should be able to report that kind of blatant mistreatment of toys."

"Look, it probably belongs to some tiny girl who didn't know any better."

"Well then her parents shouldn't have bought her it. And how d'you know it was a girl?"

"It's a purple pony with pink hair. It's a girls."

"It could have been a little boy like me."

"I don't think there are any little boys like you." Dan had scowled but Jones had beamed up at him. Somehow, he'd taken that as a compliment and Dan wasn't about wipe than grin off his face by correcting him.

As they'd left, when Jones was in the toilet, Dan had gone to the front desk and told them his daughter had lost a purple and pink pony. Jones had come back just in time to watch the woman hand over the pony. It had taken a hard glare from Dan and a lot of self-restraint from Jones to not bowl Dan over with a hug right there.

But now Jones had to watch as Barley picked it up, flipping it over and over in his sweaty, dirty hands. He grabbed the tale and allowed in to hang limply.

"Stop it! You're hurting her." Jones said and immediately regretted it. He knew he shouldn't really be attributing feelings to toys but this one was special. He'd saved this one, well Dan had saved it and for that reason it was Jones' favourite.

"Her?" Barley asked, holding it's face and squeezing hard so the plastic bent out slightly before springing back into shape.

Jones blushed. "Just give her back." he said, "She was a present."

"Who gave you this?" Barley scorned, throwing the toy back onto the decks and laughing a little as Jones picked it up and checked the damage, totally ignoring his question.

"Jones. Who gave it to you?"

Jones thought about saying 'no one' but then a flash of defiance burnt through him. No. He didn't have a problem with who he was and he was sick of keeping Dan's secret;

"Dan."

"Why?"

"Ask him."

And Jones left it at that. Barley could think what he wanted. He didn't care.

--

Jones finished late at Stanley knives and decided he may as well go straight home. When he got there though, he was surprised to find Dan sat on the sofa holding Jones' sparkly phone between two fingers.

"Good night was it." he asked, hurling it at Jones. Both men were lucky Dan's aim was appalling but if anything that made it worse as it shatter one of Jones' speakers. Suddenly, everything else didn't matter and Jones leapt at Dan screaming blue murder as he pummelled his shoulder. Dan quickly discovered Jones was stronger than he looked.

"Ow! Gerrof. Jones. Stop it. Ow. JONES!"

Dan suddenly grabbed the smaller man's fists and slammed him against the wall.

"I'm sorry." he yelled in the younger man's face "I'll buy you a new one."

"No you wont." Jones spat back, struggling against Dan's grip. "You haven't got any money. You're always cadging off me. The only present you've ever got me was from a lost property box. You're a loser Dan."

"Shut up." Dan yelled, slamming Jones against the wall. "Shut up. You still haven't asked me how I got you're phone."

"You probably stole it off me, gonna sell it on eBay or something."

"No. Some man said you left it at his house when you stayed there last night."

Oh. Jones had almost forgotten he'd stayed out all night.

"So." he shrugged, "You said I could go home with whoever I wanted."

"I didn't mean it."

"You only said it because you're too much of a coward to tell Claire."

"Well, now I have nothing to tell her, do I?"

"What?"

"You spent the night with someone else Jones."

"Oh it wasn't like that you jerk. I wasn't gonna come back here because then we'd have just rowed. I stayed with a friend." Jones figured the lie was better than the truth.

"Well, that's a lie." Maybe not then.

"What?"

"He rang me. This Rob bloke. Told me you went back to his house and left your phone there I had to go over there and get it back. When I spoke to him he couldn't even remember your name. Some friend. "

"I don't know him well." Jones tried.

"Don't lie to me. You picked him up last night."

"I… well… nothing happened!"

"And I'm supposed to believe that am I?"

"I'm not the liar."

"What are you…?"

"You're the one who goes around lying to everyone about who he is! You're a coward and a loser and I hate you!"

Suddenly, a sharp stinging shot through Jones left cheek and his head snapped sideways. He didn't move. Just stayed, silent, breathing hard and heavy. It seemed like a lifetime. Dan just stared, the stinging in his palm made him want to scream, the stinging in his chest made him want to scream. He hated himself for letting things get so out of hand. All he'd wanted, ever since he'd met him, was for Jones to be his and, if he hadn't thrown it away before, he sure as hell had now. The silence was excruciating. It was making his insides cry with hurt and confusion. Finally, Jones spat red blood to the floor. Dan noticed his lip was split.

"S'hell of a slap you got." Jones whispered

"I didn't…" Dan horrified rasped.

"Shut up!" Jones cut in, turning his neck slowly so he could look at Dan. His cheek was bright red and the bruise was already showing around his eye. "Just shut up. How dare you accuse me? You told me I was free to do what I wanted but I didn't. I stayed up and spoke to him all night about you. Then, I slept on the sofa. On the sofa, Dan!"

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah. Keep saying it. I'm not interested anymore."

"What d'you want me to say?"

"Tell me you love me. No, tell Claire you love me."

"I… I…" Dan fell quiet, looking down at the carpet smattered with droplets of blood.

"You can't do it. It's okay." Jones sighed, pushing Dan away from him gently. "I get it."


End file.
